She Is, She Isn't
by wickedsistah1024
Summary: Kuchiki Rukia is dead. He said it over and over again, only to serve one purpose—to make her his. UlquiorraxRukia


This is my first attempt at an UlquixRuki fic. This was requested to me by **gangsterforever**, so I dedicate it to her. :)

I hope you guys like this one. I kind of altered the real happenings in the anime and manga to suit this story. And there might be slight out-of-characterness, so please bear with me :)

**Summary:**Kuchiki Rukia is dead. He said it over and over again, only to serve one purpose—to make her his. UlquiorraxRukia

Some ideas in this fic are similar to the story **Music of the Night**, by **Green Amber**. I would like to thank the great **Atramentous Love** for pointing it out to me. :)

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_Kuchiki Rukia is dead..._

Those four words came out of his mouth. Those four words were meant to taunt the orange-haired fool who came all the way to the sandy terrains of Hueco Mundo to save a friend...and now, he had lost another one.

_Kuchiki Rukia is dead..._

The stoic man walked along the hallways of Las Noches, his cold green eyes staring at...nothing. He arrived at the room where Aizen-sama's pet was kept, bearing with him the same news he delivered to the substitute shinigami he had just defeated.

_Kuchiki Rukia is dead..._

The Quatro Espada watched as Aizen-sama's pet shivered for a moment...broke down in tears...and attacked him, slapping him yet again. He didn't mind, though. Not that her slaps were doing any hurt to him at all. He just let her hurt him so this meeting could end soon. He had somewhere else he needed to be.

_Kuchiki Rukia is dead..._

He watched intently as his brothers fought the invaders, sending them all back off. Without their leader, the whole group would surely fall down. He already took care of _him,_as he would have been the greatest block in his path. He now sat watching the 7th Espada, Zommari Leroux, battle it out against that long-haired captain—_her brother—_clearly amused at the probable victory of his fellow Espada. That shinigami captain is the second hindrance—he needed to be eradicated immediately. The third obstacle would have been that red-head shinigami, although Octo Espada Syazel Apollo Granz had already finished the task of silencing him.

_Kuchiki Rukia is dead..._

The shinigami troops had all retreated, bringing with them Aizen-sama's pet. But Ulquiorra didn't care. He had what he wanted—nothing else mattered. He was musing over this fact as he ambled once more along the white halls of Las Noches, but instead of trudging towards Aizen-sama's pet's all too familiar chamber, he found himself taking another path.

He headed towards a different room, visiting a different person. He stood in front of two large doors, composing himself before finally entering the chamber. Like every other room in Las Noches, it was of that dull pure white color. The walls, the furnitures, the bed, the pillows...everything was white. Yet, in the midst of this colorless sea lay a contrasting color—black, the color of death. Death, which now lay on the bed, resting in deep slumber.

He let his green eyes stare at the figure, memorizing every physical feature his naked eye could see. He slowly walked towards it and hovered above the peaceful form.

He briefly touched the stray hairs in front of her face, tucking them behind her ear. He let his pale hand linger on her face a little longer than necessary, noting how much more colorless he was in comparison to her healthy, glowing skin. He studied her face—that face that haunted him ever since the first day of meeting—and let his fingers ghost over every feature his eyes set upon. Her forehead, her closed lids, the tip of her nose...her lips. He slowly let his own pair of lips follow his fingers' lead. To taste her was the sweetest victory. And he surely have won. He let his lips rest on hers in a cold kiss--yet through it all, she remained motionless.

"Wake up, my love."

**THE END...**

Rukia let her mind wander. There was confusion filling her brain at the moment, and she couldn't quite put anything in place. She felt sore, like her body had just been beaten to a bloody pulp. Perhaps it had been—she didn't know.

She couldn't even remember where she was, or what she was doing there for that mater. Her heavy lids didn't make anything better—they refused to open and expose her deep amethyst pools to the world. Her limbs weren't any help as well, as they all refused to move.

She lay motionless on what she could deduce was a bed, soft yet cold.

It wasn't long when she felt a presence nearby. Still, her amethyst orbs refused to open, and she lay quietly like the dead lay on a coffin. Only, she was breathing.

She felt fingers touch her hair, tuck some behind her ear, then rest on her cheek. After a few more silent moments, those same fingers started caressing her face—not one detail went by unnoticed. Fingers were soon followed by lips, and there was something akin to comfort and...passion on the fleeting kisses given to her. Those lips, though cold, managed to warm something within her. It lay on top of hers for a while before she heard those same lips murmur. "Wake up, my love."

And just like that, her lids opened. It felt as if she was given some sort of energy, and she felt so light—she felt good. She found herself staring at green eyes—a stoic face with dark cyan lines below his stunning green orbs, a broken mask resting on his head, a hollow hole on the base of his throat. She slowly sat up and smiled at him. "Ulquiorra, my love."

The said man gave an uncharacteristic smile in return, just a small one, yet still a smile nonetheless. His hands traced the bit of hollow bone resting on top of her ebony head—much similar to his—and traveled to her smooth and pink cheeks, down to her chin, to her neck...to her collarbone where his nimble fingers parted her white arrancar's clothing, letting them slide off her shoulders, exposing the number 4—bold and black—printed on her right shoulder blade.

Ah, Aizen-sama had made a good job in altering her memories. Maybe, Kuchiki Rukia really is dead.

**...IS YET TO COME.**


End file.
